Kindly fuck off

Dear You,

You know who you are. I hope someone else who knows who you link this to you, so you can learn.
I hope whoever you’re with is safe now - because I wasn’t. I hope she’s stronger than I was.
How dare you steal safety from me, such a simple human right!

I’ve given you so much of my time.
I didn’t give it to you at all. You stole it from me.
You were so good at stealing from me that, eventually, I think I just left the door open for you. You would have picked the lock anyway.
In the end, you stole so much from me. You stole my calm, my peace, and my safety.

It started so simply. So subtly.

Do you remember when you knocked on my window late one night?
You were drunk. You told me you missed me. At first, I believed you.
Later, I wondered if you were checking up on me, making sure there was no one else in my bed.

Do you remember how you would buy me whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it?
In a passing comment, I would mention how I needed, wanted, or just liked something. The next day you would present me with that item. Nothing seemed to be off-limits.
Later, I realised that you thought by buying me things, you thought you were buying me. In your mind, if I accepted something from you then I was accepting your ownership of me.

Do you remember what you said when I wore a pair of short shorts?
I remember this one well.
It was one of those classic Tasmanian days; those days when the seasons were still deciding. The cold morning would turn into a perfect afternoon. So, I dressed for the weather.
The shorts were white, scalloped around the bottom. They were short but not too short.
“You look like a fucking slut. Are you going out to breakfast or a fucking tinder hook up?” you said to me.

Do you remember when I found you scrolling through my phone?
It was Valentine’s Day. And there you were, two months into our relationship, reading my messages.
This was the moment that I realised that I wanted out.
I just didn’t know how yet.

Do you remember how every time you treated me badly you would blame me?
You would say that if I didn’t do whatever I did, you wouldn’t have had to get angry.
You never once took responsibility; it was always my fault.
I knew that I was never at fault, even when you tried to convince me that it was all me.

Do you remember how you would buy me a present to say “sorry” and tell me you would work on becoming a better man?
It was textbook behaviour. And I had learned your patterns. I knew that, within only a few days, you would be putting me down, calling me names, and blaming me for your behaviour.

Do you remember when you pretended you were going to hit me?
It was a sudden moment of fear.
I knew you would have done it... If I stayed, you would have.

Do you remember when you called me when you were drunk?
I was away from you. So, I ended it.
I didn’t answer any more of your calls that night.
Even though my phone rang over, over, and over.
I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
I didn’t realise that distance would give me the strength I needed to get away from you.

I thought it was over but it wasn’t.
You wouldn’t allow me to end it. My word had never been enough.
Telling you to leave me alone was just a challenge to you.

Do you remember how I blocked you in every way possible?
You still got in touch with me. I changed my number.
You made contact through my family and friends’ phones, email, and social media accounts. No matter what I did, you always found a way.

Do you remember how you sent anonymous flowers to my parents’ house?
I remember seeing them sitting there, by the front door. I remember my heart pounding.
I remember thinking, Shit! He remembers my address and this is his way of letting me know.
I didn’t keep them.
I don’t remember there being a note. But it didn’t take long for you to find a way to tell me you had sent them to me anyway.

Do you remember when I saw you at Vera Blue?
I remember. I remember it so clearly.
I remember you yelling at me in public.
I remember you telling me that I was a horrible mum, a horrible person, a whore, a slut. The insults rolled so naturally off your tongue, I can only wonder now how many other females you had slung these insults at.
I remember the words. I remember your tone.
I remember the way you told me that you had wasted so much time with me.
I remember how I sat silently. That might have looked like weakness to you, but it wasn’t. That was me thinking about how this was the last verbal interaction we would ever have.
I remember people watching us, but not helping me.
I remember how I so desperately wanted someone to stand up for me. To tell you to stop. But no one did.
I remember the way you bumped into me when you walked past.
I remember leaving early to get away from you.

Do you remember the messages you sent to me after the concert?
I didn’t reply. I stayed silent. I thought that my silence would make it clear that I didn’t want to interact with you anymore. Ever again.
It didn’t stop though. I would leave my phone at home and look at it after work. My inbox would be crammed full of abusive messages from you.

Do you remember what happened next?
“Kate,” you said, “I shouldn’t have said what I did but, if you didn’t break up with me, I wouldn’t have had to.”
Once again, you blamed me for your behaviour. Then you bought me concert tickets.

Do you remember how you physically knocked me while running the Burnie 10?
You sent a message to me afterward, telling me that you hadn’t meant to scare me. You told me that I shouldn’t have been so rude, so unkind, I should have said hello to you. You said that it didn’t have to be the way it was.

Do you remember emailing me after Point to Pinnacle?
You said that you had seen me. You said that you hoped it went well. You were reminding me that I couldn’t ever leave you behind me.

Do you remember the star you named after me?
I believe your exact words were, “No matter what, it’ll always be there, Kate. You can’t burn it, return it or rip it up. And even if you do, it’ll still be there, reminding you of the asshole you once dated.”
It’s still twinkling away up there somewhere. And you what - it does remind me of you and it makes me shake my head in pity. Even more, I hope that star reminds you of me. The bright shining light I am, the strength I have to shine in the darkness, the support I have from all the other shining lights around me. I know you wouldn’t have wanted that for me, and that’s exactly what has happened!

I wonder... do you remember the response I sent you? The one telling you that, if you didn’t leave me alone, I would contact the police?

There are lots of things that you wouldn’t remember.
You wouldn’t remember the day I walked into court, asking them for the paperwork to file a restraining order against you.
You wouldn’t remember the hours of work I put into it.
I had to write down our conversations and take screenshots of emails and messages. I had to compile a portfolio of evidence against you.

I know there are parts I would remember, like the day the order was served to you.

You didn’t show up, so you wouldn’t remember how I had to stand in front of a judge and tell him that I no longer knew what to do. That I just couldn’t stop you. That I had tried everything.
You wouldn’t remember how he decided to grant me two years. Or how I cried, knowing that I would have two years of freedom. Or how I thanked him, I was beyond grateful.

Do you remember strategically emailing me from your work email account about a work-related promotion?
I knew that you had done it on purpose.
We never had a professional relationship.

Do you remember the police officer calling you after this email?
I had to convince him that it wasn’t an accidental email, that you placed me on that email list on purpose. I had to tell him, no, I wasn’t overreacting.
He called you and you told him it was an accident. He believed you. I was furious. And frustrated.

Do you remember just how hard I fought?
I fought hard for myself and for Alexis. For both of us to feel safe and happy again.
I became stronger. And fiercer.
I’m not going to thank you for this though.
You deserve no thanks.
Your behaviour was manipulative and abusive. It was controlling and possessive.
I shouldn’t have had to find that strength because I should never have been treated like that.

Our short four-month relationship turned into a long three-year ordeal.
I wish I had left you sooner.
I wish I had never stuck around for a second or third coffee on that first date.
I wish I had trusted my intuition more.
I wish I had realised who you were, the first time I saw a red flag.
The truth is that I felt sorry for you. I still do. I feel sorry that whatever you’ve been through has made you think your behaviour is okay. It’s not.

I feel sorry for the girl I was then.
For the girl who so desperately wanted to be loved.
For the girl who thought you were a good person because you were there for someone with such an ugly history.
For the girl who could see what sort of relationship she was in but was too scared to talk to anyone about it.
I feel sorry for the girl who thought she was unlovable as a single mother. You made me thank you for spending time with my daughter. I will never make that mistake again. Anyone should be so lucky to spend time with my children. She’s too good for you - you should have been thanking me.

I certainly don’t like you.
But I don’t hate you.
And I do forgive you.
There is a small part of me that believes that no one could intentionally treat someone else the way you treated me, but I think you did, I think you did it on purpose. I think you wanted to find someone who you perceived as weaker than you so you could control them.
And you know what else I think - it’s disgusting and you need to see someone. You are a statistic of abusers, you are one of them. And because of you, I am a statistic of survivors - something no woman (or man) should ever have to be.

That’s enough. I don’t want to write to you anymore. That’s all you’ll get from me.
If I ever hear from you, I’ll know that it’s intentional. I’ve changed my address. My phone number. My email address. You are not welcome anywhere near me again.
Don’t smile at me on the street or come over and talk to me. If you ever see me, kindly fuck off.

Just so you know, I never belonged to you. I was never yours.
​
And my legs still look amazing in those shorts.